


Mal's Great Escape

by NonstopCreatorOfNonsense



Series: Mal's Chaotic Life [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Sanses | Nightmare's Gang (Undertale), Escape, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Injury, Killer Sans (Undertale) - Freeform, Killertale Sans - Freeform, Knives, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr, Rescue Missions, Underfresh Sans (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29954301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NonstopCreatorOfNonsense/pseuds/NonstopCreatorOfNonsense
Summary: Mal gets captured by the bad guys, and when the Notorious Nineties Nightmare himself shows up to free her, she reluctantly accepts his help
Relationships: Fresh Sans & Mal, Fresh Sans & Original Character, Underfresh Sans & Mal, Underfresh Sans & Original Character
Series: Mal's Chaotic Life [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202798





	Mal's Great Escape

“Hey. Hey, pssst. Up here, Sparky.”

Mal, having heard the familiar voice whispering to her, shifted her gaze to the source, arching a brow bone, “Fresh?… What are you doing here?” The man in question slipped his arms between the bars of the grate he’d been looking down at her through, the dim lighting flickering off his single gold tooth, “Your old pal Fresh is here to bust ya outta here, kid.” The teen stared at him for a moment in disbelief, “Uh… Ok? Who said I _needed_ your help? For all you know, maybe I had everything completely under control.”

“LOL!!” flickered across his blocky sunglasses and he waved her off, sliding the shades down his nasal cavity just enough to peek over their rims as he began to inspect the bars between the two of them, “Uh huh, _riiiight_. Is dat why ya got snatched up in da first place then? ‘Cuz dat _definitely_ looked like ya had it under control.” One of her sockets twitched at the obvious sarcasm that bled out into his words, and she took a deep breath, momentarily closing her eyes, “…Firstly, shut up. Secondly, if you _really_ think you need to _rescue_ me, what’s your big plan?”

Beginning to run his gloved hands over what seemed to be very specific parts of the metal bars, Fresh tilted his head, “Well, I got my beats with me. Figured I’d make these bars here a little weaker, then take off and provide ya with a grade A distraction a’ sorts.” Mal was silent for a few seconds before responding again, “You… Brought that huge boombox with you. Ok then. Y'know, I’m just not gonna question it.” The elder of the two laughed softly, delivering a sharp smack to one of the bars with the heel of his palm and startling her in the process, “Good idea, Sparky. Seein’ as you’re in _quite_ a pinch and I’m not really in a mood to explain myself, dat sounds _rad_ to me.” The teen rolled her eyes, yelping in surprise as a single metal bar was tossed down, clanging loudly on the stone floor near her. Fresh raised an eyebrow at his niece and hummed, “There. Da main one’s outta the way. Ima go do my thing now, just use your fancy string trick ta get rid a' the other ones.” She opened her mouth to reply, almost instantly cut off by the sound of trashy nineties music blaring from the oversized boombox he’d mentioned. Though it was faint, she swore she heard the familiar sound of wheels on cement. Ah, so he must’ve brought that banged up skateboard of his too.

How typical.

Not wanting to waste this opportunity as the music began to fade into the distance, Mal was quick to touch her vibrant scarlet fingertips to the rims of her sockets, producing deep sapphire threads. Directing the threads toward the bars, she made sure each of them was accounted for as the threads enveloped them, and with a flick of her wrists, she ripped them out of place. Her threads carefully lowered them to the floor before releasing them, not wanting to make anymore noise than absolutely necessary. Discarding the now useless pieces of metal, she began to scale the wall, the threads wrapping around whatever was within reach in an effort to assist her. She was able to hoist herself up enough to slip her head, arms, and chest through the opening, before she felt a hand tightly grip one of her shins, followed by someone shouting, “Hey, where the hell do you think you’re going, small fry?!” Mal rolled onto her back, the edge of the wall digging into her spine as she looked down, locking eyes with Killer. In his free hand was his most beloved knife, one that she’d had the unfortunate luck of being on the receiving end of one too many times. Swallowing her blossoming fear, she forced herself to smirk, answering his question with ease, “Away from here, dumbass.”

Pulling one leg back, she roughly struck Killer with her heel, managing to land the hit directly on one of his cheekbones. He let out a startled cry and began tumbling backward, instinctively tightening his grip on her until she nearly screeched, feeling him fracture her fibula. Upon tightening his grip on her, he’d also yanked her back into her cell, and she tumbled down on top of him. Seeing another opportunity that she wasn’t willing to risk losing, she turned, straddling his hips. She chose to ignore their potentially comprising position, leaning over him to snatch one of the discarded metal bars. Regaining his senses, Killer stared up at her, quirking a brow bone and smiling darkly, “Well well… You’re a _sneaky_ little bitch, aren'tcha?” Acting before she’d had the chance to process what he was up to, the blade of his knife nicked one of her ribs, tearing through her sweater. Mal yelped, pain immediately searing throughout her entire ribcage. Her threads, still very much present, wrapped around his wrist, holding it tightly in place. More threads emerged, prying his fingers open and causing him to drop his weapon.

Her figure beginning to glitch heavily, Mal offered the man beneath her a twisted grin, her eye lights almost appearing hazy as she watched him, _“You tell me, jackass.”_

There was a loud clang as she brought the metal bar down onto Killer’s skull with full force, a large crack immediately snaking down half of his face. His body went limp and she dropped the bar, sighing deeply. She knew he wasn’t dead, and it was _almost disappointing_ that she wasn’t allowed to finish him off. From behind her, her uncle cleared his throat, as if announcing his presence. Knowing it was time to go, her threads began to dissipate as she looked back at Fresh over her shoulder, her voice low, “Yeah yeah, I know. Just gimme a sec… This @$$h0l3 fractured my fibula.”

Fresh arched a brow at her, tilting his head, “Ya want help, kid? Your dad made it p clear dat I’m not supposed ta bring ya back all broken and busted up. Da least I could do is help ya a little.” Mal rolled her eyes, grumbling under her breath. Taking that as permission to help, he stepped forward, lifting her up with what seemed to be a ridiculous amount of ease. Though she was clearly flustered and less than pleased with her current situation, she tightly gripped his jacket, her voice a mumble, “If you know what’s good for you, _don’t drop me.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Killer's not dead or anything :P He's just unconscious (in case anyone's concerned about that at all)


End file.
